Phantom Pains
by bahagsihari
Summary: Twenty years, three months, and one day after he graduated high school, Max-Ernest wakes up in an old friend's house with a gunshot wound. He must find out what happened to him the night before, and how to face the people who saved him. Contains major spoilers, reading this is not recommended if you haven't read the entire series.
1. Chapter 1

He woke up with a sharp pain in his shoulder.

He tried to sit up and was-_ ow_- unable to. He decided to survey his surroundings.

It was sometime in the morning, he knew, because sunlight shone through the thin curtains, filling the room with pink light. He was on a simple bed which was well-maintained, though it didn't feel like it was used much, much like a hotel bed. There were a fair amount of canvasses and boxes in the room, and he got the impression that this was more of a storage closet than a guest room. There was a wooden bedside drawer, and on it was what he presumed to be his shirt, folded. He looked down. He was shirtless, and there was a length of bandage covering his left shoulder. It was stained red.

He got up and shuffled, awkwardly, out of the room.

He went down the stairs, looking at the paintings on the wall as he went. They looked like abstract art, and there were title cards below every one of them. He did not bother to look at them. He knew only one person who painted like that, though he did not imagine himself meeting him again after twenty years.

Twenty years, three months, and a day, to be exact. He did not know how that came so easily to him, but he guessed it was just a mental tic of his by now.

He saw a man and a small girl at a small table, eating breakfast. They both had blonde hair, though the man's curled loosely around his head, while the girl's hair was short, and decidedly straight. The man was reading a Sunday paper through round glasses.

"Hello, Benjamin," he said, feeling the slightest bit out of place.

Benjamin looked up from his paper, and smiled softly. "Max-Ernest, good morning," he said, "Come sit with us. We're having pancakes."

Max-Ernest looked at his old friend tentatively, and simply nodded. He hobbled to the table and took a seat beside the little girl. She was, at the moment, munching noisily on a chocolate smeared pancake. His mouth began to water, and he chided himself for staring. But he knew he couldn't help it.

"Papa! All done!" the girl proclaimed, showing Benjamin her chocolate smeared plate.

Benjamin smiled. "Great job, Yvie. Go give the plate a bath now."

Yvie beamed, and ran to the kitchen to give the plate a bath.

It was just the two of them now. Benjamin had finished reading his paper, and set it down on his lap. Max-Ernest looked at him, and took a pancake from the plate in the center of the table.

"Now," Max-Ernest began, "I know for a fact that I couldn't have been visiting you, since I haven't heard from or seen you in twenty years, three months, and one day, and there has to be a reason as to why I'm wounded. Wounds don't magically appear on your flesh, and there's no such thing as magic."

He took the bottle of chocolate syrup in front of him.

"Are these pancakes chocolate chip?" he asked.

Benjamin shook his head.

Max-Ernest looked marginally disappointed. "Fine. It'll have to do. Anyway, something must have happened, and you must have been there, or else I would not be here in what appears to be your home, bandaged and slightly confused."

He was practically drowning the pancake in chocolate syrup.

Benjamin pointed to the poor pancake, and Max-Ernest stopped, not bothering to look down. "Sorry," he muttered, and put the syrup bottle back where it belonged.

Benjamin just smiled. "It's fine," he reassured him, "I was meaning to go to the grocery today anyway. Do you... remember what happened?"

The other man looked up, his mouth, nose, and beard soaked in syrup. "What? Oh, um. All I remember is that I was... I was getting something from the fridge."

_He was getting something from the fridge; some Tudor Gold dark chocolate, 55% cocoa, the one with almonds. It was an ordinary day for him, really. All he planned to do that night was to blog a little, maybe catch up on some Elementary. He had always liked Sherlock Holmes, and he was enjoying the series so far, though he wasn't sure how to feel about the fact that they made Watson a woman. His cat, Cacao, was asleep on the couch, and his rabbit, Quiche, was in his hutch, nibbling on a carrot. Everything was quiet._

_A gunshot went off, and knocked the bar of chocolate from his hand._

Max-Ernest scratched the back of his head. "And then a gunshot went off. I don't remember much after that, but I think I saw you- It's still pretty fuzzy in my mind."

He was still sore about the chocolate.

Benjamin nodded. "Yes, we have reason to believe someone was around that night."

Max-Ernest raised an eyebrow at "we". Benjamin, he knew, wasn't a full fledged member of the Terces Society, though he had helped them on occasion- then again, he hadn't exactly been keeping tabs with the old gang nowadays. Maybe he was. Or maybe he was a mole, like that one time when he was hypnotized by the Midnight Sun, and he was feigning hospitality. For all he knew, the chocolate syrup was poisoned, and he could be dead any minute.

Benjamin couldn't read minds anymore, but he had a good sense of what the other man was thinking. "Before you get any ideas, no, I'm not with-" he explained, looked around and found his daughter going up the stairs. "-the Midnight Sun."

"So, what, you're in Terces now? Sworn in and everything?"

Benjamin looked to the floor. "Uh. Not really sworn in, but you get the picture. Ally of sorts. I know people."

Max-Ernest narrowed his eyes, perhaps a bit more forcefully than he intended. His eyes began to hurt.

The other man gave him a furtive glance. "They wouldn't even let me in in the first place, said something about 'being too valuable' and 'the Midnight Sun might come after you again' and all that."

Max-Ernest narrowed his eyes even more.

"Plus, uh, I'm sort of famous. Benjamin Blake, award winning artist..." He trailed off, and started mumbling.

"So?" the bearded man said, "That makes both of us."

"You stopped talking to them after you graduated college."

Max-Ernest felt something prickle at the back of his neck. He instinctively grabbed it, and rubbed at it. "Not immediately. Just... a few years ago. 2007, to be precise."

It was Benjamin's turn to narrow his eyes.

"I had to. F-For their own p-p-protection," Max-Ernest said, suddenly finding it difficult to speak.

"Because of that book you wrote?"

Max-Ernest froze.

"Don't think I didn't know, old chum," Benjamin said, almost a joke. Max-Ernest did not find it funny.

"Yvie is a big fan of yours, PB."

While Max-Ernest tried to collect himself, Benjamin got up.

"Let's change that bandage of yours, shall we? I'm afraid it's looking a bit stained."

Max-Ernest interrupted him. "Could you make me some coffee, while you're at it?"

Benjamin paused from walking.

"Sure."

As Benjamin walked to the kitchen, Max-Ernest buried his face in his hand.

* * *

_(AUTHOR NOTES: HEY. Hari, here. This isn't exactly my first fanfic for the Secret Series, but it's definitely the first one I'm publishing here. I'm going to try and keep this brief because I hate long author's notes, but what the heck._

_Yeah! I'm planning to continue this! It's really just a small project, but I hope you enjoy. Please leave feedback and reviews! I love you all, the Terces Society, no matter how small you are. ;_;)_


	2. Chapter 2

Max-Ernest, now holding a cup of coffee (with five teaspoons of sugar and topical amounts of cream) in one hand, and with a fresh length of bandage placed upon his wound (of which the mere thought made him light-headed and he had to practically screw his eyes shut when Benjamin unwound his old bandage) was ready to ask the big question;

"What happened back there?"

Benjamin, who was more inclined to tea (and labelled them all rather curiously- Max-Ernest noticed that he had boxes of "lime green pekoe" and "Earl Light Blue"), stirred his cup and pursed his lips. "Well, um, we got a tip from someone who had been undercover in the Solar-Zero company building. Looks like they were planning to kill you for years, now."

Max-Ernest shuddered at the memory. There had been, indeed, several attempts on his life before, when he was writing the books. There had been the ploy with the chocolate (which was, admittedly, very clever of them, but nowadays he thought twice before accepting chocolates from a "fan"), and they had also attempted to shoot him in his previous home, but they missed by almost a quarter of an inch so he continued writing anyway. He even felt bold enough to go to Solar-Zero Inc. in the dead of night and smash the window of the main office on the top floor (not an easy feat, but he did it) to leave them a particularly unpleasant message.

The blonde man blinked, and continued. "Anyway, we followed the guy they sent to assassinate you, but it turned out to be a decoy, to keep us distracted, because when we got to your apartment, uh, you were gone."

Yes, now he remembered.

_He looked up in the direction of the window, which usually had the curtains drawn, and it was wide open, with the curtains tucked neatly in place. He backed away slowly, fear coursing through his veins. They had found him again, and they were either going to kill him and ransack his belongings for any mention of the Secret, or torture the Secret out of him. They were going to stop at nothing until they got the Secret._

_Quiche was balled up in a corner of his hutch, and Cacao had been woken by the noise and was scampering beneath the couch._

_"Sorry I have to leave you like this," he muttered frantically, trying to keep his palms from shaking. "But I really, really have to get out of here, so if you don't mind-"_

_He took the suitcase that sat near his doorstep, and put on the bowler hat and trench coat he had on a coat rack._

_He walked out, knowing fully well he would be followed, but it was better than staying there any longer._

He was back in the present, and Benjamin was looking at him intently. "I know," Max-Ernest told him. "I got out of there. Do you know what happened to Quiche, and, um, Cacao?"

Benjamin blinked.

"My rabbit and my cat."

"Oh," Benjamin replied, "I think they're with Owen now. Cass wouldn't keep them because she thought they would mess with her things, and Yoji has a dog, so he couldn't."

Looks like they weren't living together, then. Max-Ernest was surprised; he thought they would still be together after high school, but he guessed not. A part of him hoped they were still at least friends; and that they would still be friends with him, as well.

Max-Ernest wiped the syrup off his face. "May I go see them?"

"Yes, you can..." nodded Benjamin, "...but I don't think you know where Owen lives, do you?"

Max-Ernest paused. He then shook his head.

"I'll drive you, then. Go get dressed and let's go."

There was a silence.

"Actually," Max-Ernest said, "I think I'll need a shower."

He hobbled back upstairs, and Benjamin called behind him, "The bathroom is just across the guest room, and there are towels beside the sink."

A ghost of a smile appeared on Max-Ernest's face.

* * *

_Author's Note: A short chapter, but a chapter, nonetheless! I'm not going to be updating on a strict schedule, however, it's probably going to be more "when I feel like it" kinda deal._

_Also, I tried to keep this fic ship-neutral, hence the fact that Cas and Yoji didn't just suddenly hook up. Ha ha, whoop._

_This is Hari, signing off until the next chapter!_


	3. Chapter 3

The cafe looked like an ordinary cafe, or at least a bar that served as a cafe in the morning.

It had red brick walls, a bar with shelves of glass bottles behind it, and a small stage where a band had set up. The tables were clean, and yet unoccupied. There was a sign in neon, currently unlit, which said _Sixth Sense Bar _in cursive letters.

It was in this bar/cafe where Benjamin and Max-Ernest found themselves later that day.

They sat themselves down at a table. They were the only ones there, save for a scruffy looking man in a ponytail tuning a guitar on the stage.

"Okay," said Max-Ernest, adjusting the collar of his plaid shirt, "you mind telling me what happened when you got to my apartment, then?"

Ben coughed, adjusted, his glasses, and tried to recall what happened.

_Owen put her finger to his lips, and made the "shhh" sound that had always reminded him so much of a snake coming out of someone's mouth._

_They were tense for a moment, and he opened the door._

_It was empty._

_Well, empty in the sense that nobody was around. The apartment was fully furnished._

_Benjamin scanned the room briefly. The studio apartment was small, carpeted, and felt cozy. Funny, he thought that Max-Ernest would live somewhere... he didn't know how to put it. Somewhere less cushy._

_The wallpaper was a dark purple and it was patterned with fleur de lis. There were thick maroon curtains that had been drawn, even though it was the middle of the night. He could see a desk stacked with papers and books._

_The window was open._

_Owen went first, then Benjamin. As he looked around, he could see a small, tiled kitchen space and a bathroom._

_He could see a chocolate bar on the floor with a hole in it. There was a similar hole in the wall, as if a gun had shot through it._

_"You hear that?" Owen had asked._

_Benjamin shook his head._

_They stood still for a moment. He could hear something, now. A scuffling sound._

_A cat popped its head out of the couch and meowed._

He coughed. "We arrived at the street, sometime after, 'cause you were gone by the time Owen and I got to your apartment. We, um, There were five of us, but we had to split up. Because, well..."

"Because of the multiple buildings with the number XX on it," Max-Ernest finished for him.

Benjamin blinked, and nodded slightly in agreement.

Max-Ernest laughed. "I'm surprised that you even found the right apartment."

"You wouldn't bloody believe how hard it was to find, you bloomin' wanker!"

They looked up, and saw an elderly gent take a seat beside them. He wore an apron much like the ones you could see on a waiter, and his short brown hair was just beginning to grey.

"Pretty clever of you, takin' a street with three different apartments with the same number on 'em," the man chuckled.

Max-Ernest smiled, and offered his hand. "Owen. I didn't know you were an Aussie."

Owen shook his hand. "Name's Jim, Jim Waters, if anyone asks." He tapped the nametag that was pinned to his apron. "Owner and proprietor of this place here. And doing quite well."

"I trust my pets are doing well, too?"

Jim winked. "They're in my flat upstairs. I gave the cat some tuna and the rabbit seemed to like the leftover cabbage." He shrugged. "They're doing fine, though I wish I could say the same with my sofa..."

They all laughed. Max-Ernest, he realized, had missed the Terces Society dearly after he had broke contact with them years ago. He wondered where Cass was. Was she angry at him? After all, she had gotten angry when he told him about what he saw in that mirror, all those years ago...

"Where are the others?" Max-Ernest found himself saying.

"Well," Jim said, drumming a stubbled chin with his fingers, "let's see. Lily's still around- I think she's mentoring university kids now, I'm not quite sure... Wallace is still around. Won't be kicking the bucket any time soon, so to speak. He's still doing whatever accountants do, I guess, and he's got more files to cram in those archives of his. The ol' circus is still around, I'd wager, though I'm sad to say that The Amazing Alfred bit the dust last September."

Max-Ernest visibly stiffened. "I'm sorry to hear that."

"We all are, kid. Cass, well, bless her- she's been traveling. She was in the Philippines, last I heard, but we haven't heard from her since last week."

"And what about Yoji?" Max-Ernest asked, wanting to steer clear of the topic of his- former- best friend Cass.

A guitar wailed from the stage, and the cafe/bar was filled with the sound of feedback.

Their heads went from each other, to the stage, where the man in the ponytail was absentmindedly playing the electric guitar.

When he finished, he looked up from his guitar, and blinked through his round glasses.

"Sorry, forgot to check the volume, yo!"

* * *

_AUTHOR'S NOTES:_

_It's been a while ever since I posted a sizable chapter! 883 words minus the author's notes! Not quite up there with the first chapter which is 1k+ alone, but still! Yeah!_


	4. AN UNEXPECTED INTERMISSION

The woman shielded her eyes from the bright sun. It was midday in Manila. She was in a taxi with poor air-conditioning and she could feel the air practically sweltering outside. She felt like she was being roasted in a small oven.

Her skin was burnt to a nut brown color and her hair was in a thick braid that hung over one bare shoulder. She was dressed in a green tank top, cargo pants, and flipflops. She looked out the window and saw a boy selling water amongst the traffic.

She had the look of a backpacker.

She had, in fact, travelled to many places. Holland, France, Greenland, Kenya, Turkey, Brazil... She usually spent months in a country, if her visa permitted it. She went to all the lesser-known nooks and crannies of the lesser-known countries and even of the better-known ones. She would've had her own TV show on Discovery or something had she not A. hated Discovery Channel, and B. hated having to be in front of a camera, and C. had to keep on the down low in accordance with the vow she gave.

Just a week ago she had been traveling all over the islands of Luzon, learning about their indigenous tribes, climbing mountains, peering down volcanoes... and that was just one-third of the country. The other two-thirds would have to wait, however.

She took her phone out of her pocket. It was a very unassuming sort of phone, one that people wouldn't steal. She was not very fond of fancy phones, because she reasoned that a phone should be able to send and receive messages and nothing more.

She flipped to her e-mail, and re-read the latest message.

_From: jiminywaters _

_To: miss-ardassnac _

_Subject: How's the weather in Manila?_

At first glance, it looked like the person who sent it- Jiminy Waters- would only chat her up about her recent trip to the Pearl of the Orient.

However, it was something much more urgent.

_You haven't replied to my messages in a while. Is it because you aren't getting them, or is it because you've been consulting with some other elders from some other tribe? Knowing you, it's probably the latter._

_Anyway, we found You-Know-Who, and he's in shit shape as I type this, actually. Solar-Zero finally got him, though they only got away with a nick at the shoulder before we sent them howling. You better come home. He'll be wondering about you._

_Cheerio,_

_Jiminy_

_SIXTH SENSE CAFE- We got liquor so hard it'll give you a sixth sense!_

_Visit us at XX XXXXXX XXXXX, XXXXXXXXX, XX, XXX_

_Call us at XXX-XXXX_

She inhaled sharply through her teeth, and exhaled.


End file.
